


Vega and Altair

by amaryllises



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst-ish?, F/M, i write too many kaimakis im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaryllises/pseuds/amaryllises
Summary: [MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DRV3]Harukawa Maki has two secrets.





	Vega and Altair

**Author's Note:**

> in which maki has the disease instead of kaito

_Harukawa Maki lolls her head back. Certainly, she had no favorite assassination attempt — it was all for the good of her orphanage, and, might she add, unwilling — but this was, by far, her most despised one._

 

_“-hear my favorite story?” he asks casually. He’s the son of the prime minister, seventeen or so, and Maki was hired to kill him, in hopes of starting a rebellion, or inevitable carnage._

 

_Maki doesn’t try to understand the morality of her “sponsors.”_

 

_Maki lets out an innocent smile. “Of course!” she says, bubbly. She hates it; how cheery she sounds, how her hair is coiled into a carefully arranged bun, the tight red dress she was forced into. Killing him would be easy. Dealing with him was the hard part._

 

_“Alright,” he starts, raking a hand through his hair, “so, there’s this princess named Orihime…”_

 

_Maki doesn’t listen; she only gives a polite smile, and tilts her head in feigned interest every once in awhile. She’s heard of this tale, which she, quite frankly, cares nothing about. Her friend at the orphanage used to keep a copy of the myth, and would go to Maki; sighing over the heartwarming love; wishing a prince would carry her away, despite the unhappy ending. Maki doesn’t like hearing her delusions, but she does miss her._

 

_“-her father was sad that she would never find love, so he arranged a marriage with a cow herder,” he continued._

 

_Maki twirls a lock of hair around her gloved finger._

 

_“-but Orihime stopped weaving, and Hikoboshi didn’t look after his cows…”_

 

_Maki’s knife is hidden in her boot. A relatively short dagger, intended to instantly kill, without traces of unnecessary evidence left behind._

 

_“-by the Sky God, or Orihime’s father, who cast them on opposite sides of the Milky Way…”_

 

_Maki wishes it would end._

 

_“-they could only meet, on only one day, each year, carried by magpies…” He’s almost finished_

 

_Maki hesitates.She quickly swipes out the dagger, and, with lightning speed, slices his throat._

 

_She mumbles something incoherent before she throws the dagger at the ground._

-

Monokuma hates her. She knows it.

 

From the second Maki remembers her talent, from the second she wakes up, stuffed into a dingy locker, next to an annoying boy with purple hair and a purple coat.

 

But she didn't imagine Monokuma would hate her _that_ much, before she turns the handle of the crimson and gold-embellished door. The first thing her eyes focus on are the walls full of weapons. It’s a fucking _arsenal_.

 

Now, she guards it with furious intensity, snapping away intruders.

-

Maki’s jaw clenches as she slams her door with — one could debate, childish petty — anger creeping up her chest. Her dorm’s in disarray; papers thrown everywhere, clothes and bedsheets strewn on the floor. She dives in her bed. She originally wanted to grab some more paper from the warehouse, but now, all she wants to do is wrap her hands around Ouma’s neck once more.

 

One secret of hers is already gone. She tugs at her hair, tangled, like how she wishes Ouma’s windpipe is.

 

She only has one secret left; one she reassures herself, frequently, that it's not true; that she hides beneath layers and layers of white lies.

 

It's the one she grasps on to, hopes to whatever God is out there (definitely not Atua) that it will never be revealed.

 

This is stupid, she concludes.

 

Harukawa Maki has lost one secret, and she only has one pitiful one left.

-

Maki wishes Momota would go away.

 

He's, plainly, annoying, and every time he rings her doorbell, expecting an answer, she tears her hair out in frustration.

 

But no matter how many times she articulates to him, that, no, she doesn't want to hang out with her classmates who'd outcast her even more than she had already done herself, he comes back, with that dumb grin.

 

Maki supposes being friendly in the beginning wouldn't stop Ouma’s witch-hunt against her.

 

And every time she replies apathetically, Momota always seems to twist her words around, making it seem more positive than she had intended. It's dumb.

 

He manages to hang out with her, more than once, leaving Maki to wonder why she had even accepted it in the first place: his strange request to involve her in the viewing of the Flashback Lights.

 

Harumaki’s a dumb nickname.

-

When he asks her if she can go training, she, foolishly, obliges, instead of standing her ground, even though she’s in no shape nor condition.

 

She manages to do a hundred sit-ups without wanting to double over.

 

“Harumaki, where’re you going?” Momota asks, as she brushes off her skirt. He’s not even doing any sit-ups; Maki notes how he's simply sitting down and gazing up at the stars.

 

Her face isn't red like Saihara’s, but she can feel the sweat dripping down her back; her hands cold and clammy. Saihara’s looking at her curiously and Momota grins widely.

 

She walks away, her posture high and refined. When Momota calls for her, again, she doesn't turn back.

 

As soon as she slams the door closed, she gags. There's an aching cramp on her side, and, somehow, the pain rises up her esophagus.

 

Maki clutches her throat, and, in desperation, rushes to the bathroom. Raising the toilet seat, she coughs out bitter red bile. That was in her mouth, she realizes with horror.

 

She flushes it away.

 

She sits with her back against the wall, and sighs, her breath ragged and uncomfortable. She definitely doesn’t regret walking away.

-

Momota’s a coward. He skips training too often, and only because he’s scared of rituals. He’s pathetic, leaving her alone, to awkwardly deal with Saihara and whatever insecurity he was mumbling about to himself.

 

Her difficulties breathing are hard to hide, especially from Saihara, who’s more perceptive than she anticipated. She hides it anyways.

 

So when Yonaga and her cult prohibit going outside at nighttime, why does Maki ring Momota’s doorbell for a change?

 

“What’s wrong, Harumaki?” Momota asks, after her fifth impatient ring. He’s still relatively pale and sweating.

 

“Are you coming to training?” Maki replies. Blunt and direct. As conversations should be.

 

“D-do you miss me?” Momota shivers. When Maki glares at him, he quickly responds with, “s-sorry, I can’t.”

 

“Why?” Momota allows her inside. She stands by the entrance.

 

“Yonaga’s r-rule, right?”

 

“Who cares about that? I thought you were scared of ghosts.”

 

“N-no, I’m not!” Momota defensively huffs. “Cuz’ I’m M-Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars!”

 

“Whatever. I’ll just train with Saihara,” Maki replies, as she opens the door.

 

It reveals Saihara, with his index finger poised next to the doorbell. “Oh, hi, Harukawa…” he mumbles, pulling his hand down.

 

Maki only offers him a neutral glance as Momota appears, still sickly, behind her.

 

“Sorry, bro…” he starts.

 

Maki’s not pleasantly intrigued when Saihara gives her a scared glance as Momota explains how he won’t be able to join.

-

Maki groans as she shuts her dorm door. Because of Chabashira, they had to skip training, _and_ Maki had to lug herself around the school, helping with the student council’s dilemma.

 

Actually, she realizes, she wasn’t even invited. Chabashira only asked Saihara, who happened to take her along with him.

 

In fact, the _only_ reason why Chabashira allowed her to go was the brittle hope that she would kill Yonaga. Was that what everyone thought of her? A mindless killing machine?

 

If Maki cared, that would’ve been offensive.

 

And typical Saihara, sticking his neck in business that didn’t even concern him.

 

Her chest burns as she drags herself to her bathroom. Maki immediately crumples to the ground, gripping her chest; the stupid, tied ribbon in the way.

 

Luckily enough, Maki has aspirin in her bathroom, which she pops in her mouth earnestly. Quantity didn’t matter. The more the better, right? Her chest still pounds uncomfortably, and she bites her nails.

 

There were too many pills in the container. She was certain her classmates hated her, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her dead body, hunched over, foam on her lips.

 

Maki lets out a dry laugh. She was _only_ alive because of spite.

 

The laugh morphs into a gag, and she vomits into the toilet, like a drunk sorority girl. She doesn’t bother looking at it — it’s bloody, of course — and flushes it down.

 

It’d be a matter of time before she started coughing out blood.

-

When Maki’s at the seance, after both Yonaga and Chabashira died, it’s the most peculiar thing she’s ever witnessed.

 

Chabashira’s lying in fetal position, a hefty amount of blood surrounding her body. Maki suspects the killing wound was from the neck. The salt circle is absolutely trampled.

 

Ouma’s fucking around. Maki’s on the ground by Chabashira’s corpse, inspecting the cloth used in _The Caged Child_. There’s a splattered bloodstain on the very center, she notes. Despite that, the cloth is still in pristine quality.

 

“-Maybe... it’s Yonaga’s curse,” she hears Ouma say, right when she’s in earshot, ready to investigate some more objects used in the ritual.

 

“C-Curse?” Momota almost jumps back, his face conveying his terror.

 

“Not again…” Maki scornfully remarks, walking past.

 

“C-C-Curse?” Momota says. Maki rolls her eyes.

 

And suddenly, Momota lunges at her, and Maki, scared, takes a step back.

 

He ends up enveloping her in a hug.

 

“Hey!” she yells, in outrage. The sudden strain in her voice is enough to make her cough, her face immediately flushed.

 

“Kaito, calm down!” Saihara says, adding in his two cents.

 

“T-There’s no such thing as a curse!” Momota cries out, his arms still tightly locked around Maki. “Quit screwing around!”

 

“Do you want to die?” Maki snaps, but Momota doesn’t let go.

 

One. Two. Three. Maki’s hand forms a fist, and she punches Momota square in his jaw. A thud echoes through the room.

 

The room is silent, and motionless, except for Momota, whose mouth opens in shock; his hand reaching up to feel the swelling injury.

 

Maki coughs — the difficult, uncontrollable kind — into her elbow. Thankfully, her sleeves are maroon, so the little blood that comes out only looks a tiny bit different.

 

“A-Are you two okay?” Saihara worriedly asks.

 

Momota peers at her, with a look of betrayal, and strangely… something else, that Maki can’t detect. She glares at him, and he turns away quickly.

 

“I’m fine, guys,” Momota shrugs it off casually.

 

Maki can’t say anything — or, if she’d begrudgingly admit: apologize — because of the bile in her mouth.

-

When Momota requests they talk instead of training, Maki almost leaves. She had only intended to do pushups and leave, back to the safety of her dorm, where could she take more aspirin (she’s running out) and throwing up (she can’t imagine it’s healthy).

 

But she obliges anyways, and sits in the courtyard with Saihara and Momota.

 

“So! What blood type do you like?” Momota asks.

 

Maki’s flustered — was he referring to her being an assassin? Or something else? — and replies with, “don’t you mean, what’s _my_ blood type?”

 

“Kaito… you’re bad at this,” Saihara remarks. He’s still a coward, but… Maki can’t quite make up her opinion on him. Sure, he was generally depressing and his only motivation was a dead girl, but he _had_ carried the survivors through the past three trials.

 

It might be envy but Maki likes to pretend it isn’t.

 

“Whatever!” Momota stubbornly replies, and he and Saihara have some on and off argument.

 

“... Anyways, Harukawa, I wonder… why did you tell us you were the SHSL Child Caregiver?” Saihara asks, blunt, and straight to the point.

 

Momota quickly interrupts with, “Shuichi! That’s way too direct! Let’s talk about something more safe, like her favorite spaceship!”

 

“I was raised in an orphanage,” Maki answers, nonchalantly.

 

The words come pouring out of her mouth before she realizes.

 

Smelly cots, stained white sheets draped over the top. She’s twelve again, tucked inside, tearfully staring at the ceiling. There were no forms of entertainment, or even an extra pillow to hug. Bed at nine, mornings at six.

 

The matron would pace around the entrance of the room, probably yelling at some kid for using the bathroom. Maki’s obedient. Maki doesn’t want to have her fingers raw from scrubbing dishes, like her friend, who had been yelled at for keeping books.

 

When Maki’s finished with her anecdote, Momota and Saihara are both stunned into silence.

-

“Did you like Akamatsu?” Maki blurts out to Saihara, when Momota’s away at the bathroom.

 

Idiot Momota, leaving her alone with someone she doesn’t even want to interact with. Maki knows that Saihara knows they would never have interacted without Momota’s meddling; how she dislikes him, probably the same for Saihara, who’s always awkward when they’re left alone.

 

He _is_ smart, and he knows when to quit. Maki can respect that.

 

“H-Huh?” Saihara makes a shocked face. Maki almost laughs at how predictable his reaction is.

 

“I’d assume you didn’t, because it’s weird.”

 

“Weird?” Saihara asks.

 

“Liking someone… especially in a situation like this…” she trails off, and combs her pigtails.

 

“Well, uh, tell me: under which circumstance is liking people not weird?” Saihara counters.

 

“I… don’t know… I don’t understand... Whatever,” Maki quickly backpedals, realizing she didn’t have an argument. She bites her nail. “Just pretend I never asked.”

 

“Mmm.” Saihara quickly drops the topic, and resumes his sit-ups. Maki appreciates how he doesn’t pursue, how he doesn’t barrage her with questions.

 

Maybe Saihara and his cowardliness aren’t so bad.

-  


The Virtual World’s stupid and Iruma's stupid and Saihara’s stupid and Momota is an idiot, Maki decrees, as she dejectedly shuffles through a pile of boxes filled with miscellaneous stuff.

 

Shouldn't he and his “sidekicks” stick together?

 

Apparently not, because he only requests the assistance of one: Saihara, who looks at Maki apologetically.

 

As much as Maki hates to admit it, it seems genuine.

 

Maki stays silent, her face flushed, and glares at him.

 

She's dragged along into Iruma, Kiibo, and Yumeno’s group to explore the chapel. It’s stupid. When Iruma calls out that she’s going outside to explore, Maki doesn’t care enough to respond.

 

Kiibo and Yumeno make small talk, and Maki makes no attempt at joining. They wouldn’t want her there, regardless.

 

She definitely doesn’t care, she reassures herself constantly. It doesn’t matter. The killing game is stupid. She shouldn’t care about anything, especially stupid Momota, who provided no use to… anything, really. Nor should she care about stupid coughs.

 

Frustrated, Maki rips off the lampshade, as if the secret of the outside world were there. She doesn’t think it’s real, but what use would Kiibo annoying her into searching do?

 

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care at all.

 

But you do care, a maternal voice chides, like the mother Maki never had.

 

And when Maki rips off the VR helmet with Kiibo, she can’t help but to sigh with relief. Stupid. guilty relief.

 

Now that Iruma’s dead, it would be the only thing she’d focus on. Staying alive was her top priority, instead of thinking about feelings.

 

This is stupid.

-

Maki holds a bottle of poison from Saihara’s lab — the worst kind — that’s painful and slow. Her steps are calculated and precise from years of endured torture and training. Her steps only make light tapping noises as she strolls down the stairwells, looking casual and carefree, in case anyone were to witness her.

 

Nobody would. They were too scared, and cooped up in their dorms. Maki knows, Maki understands. Maki’ll save them all, and hopefully herself.

 

She also wants to save someone else, but dear God (not Atua), she’ll never admit it.

 

Her dorm’s still dark and gloomy, as she remembers from earlier. Maki peruses the weaponry, now, more frantic and rushed in the privacy of a closed door. She didn’t know what Ouma was doing, but it might equate more danger if she didn’t rush herself.

 

Her eyes lay upon a black bag, and something in her snaps.

 

The vial of poison is placed delicately inside the bag, laid in a position where it would be difficult to break. Resting her electrohammer against her shoulder, Maki makes her way.

 

Past the dorms (that are eerily silent), past the courtyard (with an absence of the usual Kaito and Saihara), and past Iruma’s research lab (which is still as bright as when she was alive) lays the Exisal Hangar. The night is deadly silent; the only thing that remotely gives her away is her cough, that splatters blood all over the inside of her elbow, which Maki doesn’t even bother to wipe away..

 

Maki ignores the piercing pain in her chest.

 

Once she’s inside, Maki quickly scans around, ensuring she’s the only one there. “You put this here, and that there, and this in an opposite angle,” she murmurs, quickly fashioning together a crossbow. The vial clinks around bag as she retrieves pieces, and carefully she pulls it out.

 

Quick and precise, she dips the arrows in the poison — Strike-9, she recalls — and loads it into the crossbow. Not slowly and lovingly, like some psychopath, she reassures.

 

She was a murderer, yes, but for a good reason. That was her only justification.

 

Her first murder was for the orphanage. Her last is for ending the killing game.

 

And then she sprints. The electrohammer slinged over her shoulder, her other hand gripping the crossbow. Through the maze, until she sees the open arena where all the Exisals are held.

 

When she sees an Exisal nearby, she immediately jumps up, and slams the hammer on top, ignoring the way the others paid no attention to her.

 

She hops in.

 

She passes through the entrance, undisturbed. She’s gonna save everybody (or maybe, it’s for a more selfish reason), bring this stupid killing game to an end. Maybe Harukawa Maki would finally be a hero, and atone for her sins-

 

The next few seconds are a blur.

 

_Click_. It hits Ouma in his shoulder, and he looks up at her triumphantly-

 

_Click._ It hits Momota, and suddenly, Maki’s screaming and crying and running off as fast as she can-

 

_Boom._ Maki opens the cabinet and quickly retrieves the antidote-

 

_Thud._ Maki’s footsteps are masked by the soil, her coughs now free and unrestrained-

 

_Kaito!_ It’s the sound of her voice as she hands him the antidote through the hangar window-

 

It’s silent when Ouma plucks it swiftly from Momota’s hand, and drinks it, right in front of her, grinning maliciously-

 

Her knife makes clinking noises as she slashes the control panel, unperturbed by the immense, immense plan in her chest.

 

The hangar’s entrance doesn’t budge, but Maki doesn’t stop until the entire keypad is ruined. She imagines it’s Ouma, and she’s ripping him to shreds.

 

There’s only one more pill in the container. Only one measly pellet of aspirin. Maki flings it across the bathroom, and sobs freely, raking her fingers through her hair. She coughs, and for the first time, it seems, she doesn’t care.

 

Momota’s dead, and it’s all her fault.

 

And it’s at this ironic moment that she realizes she loves him.

-

Momota -- not Ouma -- jumps out of the Exisal, and Maki’s not sure whether to hug him or to bash his brains out. She just stands frozen at the podium.

 

Maki realizes he’s going to be executed.

 

“Hey, Harumaki!” he says cheerily.

 

“You can’t kill him,” Maki threatens Monokuma, pointing a knife at the stupid bear’s direction. “You can’t.” She bursts into a fit of coughs, and the blood drips down her hand. She doesn’t care about it. Her grip on the knife tightens.

 

“Harukawa?” Shirogane says, bland and worried. Maki ignores her. This would be her chance to destroy the killing game, to finish the task that Ouma so lovingly devoted himself to, even if it meant ending his own life.

 

“Y-you do know, you _will_ be breaking the rules, right? Which means, you’ll be punished!” Monokuma nervously grins.

 

“Harukawa… my inner voice is telling me that this isn’t wise,” Kiibo remarks.

 

“Shut up. All your Monokubs are gone. You have no Exisals. You can’t do anything,” Maki hisses.

 

“Really?” Monokuma places his paw on his chin. “Hmm… I guess you’re right! I really don’t have any Exisals!”

 

At comedic and convenient timing, four Exisals burst in.

 

“Oh, I guess I do! Unless you could fight all of them at once!” Monokuma’s grin widens. “Or maybe… you’re too weak?”

 

It’s the dull pain of the realization that shocks her into silence.

 

“No!” she screams, her voice throat raw and burning. The bile rises again, but she forces it down, ignoring the excruciating compressing on her chest. “You can’t!”

 

And she’s babbling about something stupid and dumb and how she fell for an idiot.

 

“Harumaki,” Momota says reassuringly. “It’s fine! Hey, maybe now, you’ll learn to like yourself!” He grins. “Besides, remember? The impossible is possible! All you gotta do is make it so!”

 

But then she’s crying and Saihara’s crying and Yumeno’s crying and Shirogane’s crying and Kiibo looks ahead with a look of dread.

 

“No tears!” And everyone gulps it down, except for Maki, who keeps crying. “Send me off with a smile and a bang! A fitful punishment for the Luminary of the Stars!”

 

“Alright! It’s puuunishment time!” Monokuma gleefully says, before he slams the mallet against the button.

 

Momota smiles as a chain is snapped around his neck, and he’s shoved into a rocketship.

 

At that moment, Maki doesn’t stop herself. She doesn’t suppress it. She coughs rapidly, blood staining her shirt sleeves.

 

Her last memory was everyone staring at her in horror.

 

Harukawa Maki doesn’t die a hero. She never intended to, anyway.

- 

Maybe the killing game was her bridge of magpies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is cheesy and dumb and grrr & idk i heard the myth and it just reminded me of kaito!!
> 
> next fic would probably be tenmiko (if i don't lose inspiration) because it's cute AND i write too many kaimakis i have a problem of the Basic Ships


End file.
